


love makes a fool turn into a king

by GayaIsANerd



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, POV Alternating, Weddings, it's honestly just 6k of the boys being in love, sooo much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 10:57:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16428053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayaIsANerd/pseuds/GayaIsANerd
Summary: “We’re getting married,” Even whispers, and Isak’s smile turns wider.“We really are, baby.”//Collaboration with the amazing Aphelia (youtube) / Ikram





	love makes a fool turn into a king

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! <3
> 
> I'm so excited for this one! It's a collab with the wonderful [Ikram](http://isaksy.tumblr.com/). I love her vid so much, writing a fic to go with it was an honor!  
> Thank you so much, bud! Love you!
> 
> Please watch the vid, it's [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SY-cy6Mab9Qand) and it's amazing as usual!

He feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin, time going simultaneously too fast and too slow, nerve endings set alight under his skin. It almost, _ almost _ , feels like mania.

Except… except he’s never been more present in a moment than right now. Everything feels more alive, the world painted in streaks of velvety colour, and in the middle of it all, Isak, his fiance, his soon to be husband.

Isak laughs as Jonas fumbles with his tie, pulling it crooked. He bats Jonas’ hands away as he pulls it straight himself. Even’s eyes follow the line of Isak’s hand down his chest as he smooths down the tie.

The fire under his skin burns a little stronger when he sees how Isak mindlessly taps his thumb against the ring finger where his wedding ring will soon join his engagement ring. It’s a habit he developed soon after he asked Even to marry him, like he can already feel the added weight of the ring there. Like the idea comforts him. Like he can’t wait for the world to see he’s taken.

The feeling is mutual.

Jonas goes over the to do list, provided by Sana, once more, ticking things off as he goes. He grumbles at the amount of tasks he has been assigned to and Isak rolls his eyes, good-naturedly ribbing him. Even smiles as they banter about best man duties, laughter in their voices, Isak’s smile wide, open. 

Even loves seeing him like this, happiness spilling out at the seams.

He stops listening to their actual words, just watches Isak talk, his hands flying out, his eyes sparkling, his lips curving up in smiles. He’s beautiful and Even is in love, he’s so incredibly in love.

As if feeling Even’s eyes on him, Isak turns his head. His smile turns softer, more private. His thumb taps over his ring finger again, his nail against the silver making a soft sound. 

Jonas scrapes his throat, “I’m going to see if Eva needs some help setting up,” Isak nods distractedly, his eyes still trained on Even, the intensity of his look setting Even alight. Jonas just laughs, pats his best friend on the shoulder and walks out the door.

“Need help?” Isak asks, nodding towards Even’s still loose tie.

Even nods and walks forwards, falling easily into Isak’s space. He lets Isak fix his tie, nimble fingers gliding over the fabric. Isak makes quick work of it, habit guiding his hands. Even will never get over the intimacy of it, Isak’s breath hitting his face, the inside of his cheek pulled between his teeth as he concentrates, a slight frown between his eyes. He pulls the knot up snugly against the hollow of Even’s throat, not too tight, fingers tapping the knot once.

Even loves him.

Isak smooths down Even’s shirt when he’s done. He lingers on the curve of Even’s shoulders, pulling the shirt taut over his chest and then down, coming to rest on Even’s hips. Digging slightly into the meat there, holding on. The curl of Isak’s fingers around his hips a familiar feeling.

“Isak,” Even breathes, and Isak looks up into his eyes.

“I know,” he answers.

They lean their foreheads against each other, just sharing air, eyes locked, almost going cross from how close they are. Still, Even refuses to close his eyes, needs to see the green in Isak’s eyes to ground himself. Count the little specks as he counts his breathing.

“I can’t believe...,” Isak says, his voice shaking, his hands letting go of his waist and reaching out for Even’s. Their fingers slot together, and Even squeezes. The rings tap together, the sound loud in the quiet room.

“I know,” Even replies, and Isak laughs softly, presses the softest of kisses onto Even’s lips.

When Isak pulls back, he exhales shakily and smiles.

“We’re getting married,” Even whispers, and Isak’s smile turns wider. 

“We really are, baby.”

Isak swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down and Even presses a kiss onto his cheek. He ducks his head, closes his eyes, a habit he’s still not grown out of and Even hopes he never will. He loves seeing the wild and open part of Isak’s happiness, but he treasures that shy happiness that is only for him.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” Isak says when his eyes open again, frowning at Even’s socked feet, curled into the soft carpet.

Even laughs, shrugs. He rubs his feet together, the socks rustling against each other.

“Sit,” Isak orders, his chin pointing to the chair behind Even.

When he, surprisingly gracefully, gets down on his knees, Even’s breath stops for a bit.

“Settle down, horndog, I’m just going to tie your shoes,” Even snorts and kicks out, his socked foot aiming for the side of Isak’s arm, but Isak’s hand shoots out, grabs it. He digs his thumb into the sole of Even’s foot for a beat, making Even sigh, his shoulders relax, and then grabs his shoes.

Even watches him, the same concentration from before on his face, like tying Even’s shoes is the most important task in the world.

His single minded attention to the task at hand, even if it’s the simplest task, never fails to warm Even’s chest. Especially when all of Isak’s attention is focused on him.

When he’s finished, Isak leans back on his haunches a bit, looks up at Even from under his eyelashes. He looks beautiful, ethereal, and like every (wet) dream Even has ever had.

“You fucker,” Even whispers, and Isak’s mouth twitches, mischievous grin pulling on the corners of his mouth. 

“All done,” Isak says, slowly blinking.

The fire under Even’s skin rages. His world narrows down to Isak, Isak’s eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks, his strong hands resting on the tops of Even’s thighs. He’s about to marry this man, spend the rest of his life with him, and he can’t wait.

He pulls Isak up and on his lap, hungrily licking into his mouth, one hand on the small of his back, one hand in his hair.

Isak melts into him, kisses back with as much fervor, moans a sound Even swallows whole. 

It should almost be a habit now, kissing Isak after all these years. They know every part of the other’s body, have kissed in a thousand ways, a million times. 

And yet… fireworks still explode on the backs on Even’s eyelids every time Isak licks his upper lip, his heart still beats faster when Isak fists his hands into the back of Even’s shirt. He hopes kissing Isak will never become a habit.

Isak laughs when he pulls back after a while, “Sana’s going to be so mad you fucked up my hair.”

Even giggles, pressing his face into the crook of Isak’s neck, places an open mouthed kiss there.

“Speaking of Sana, I promised her I’d approve the table setting,” Isak sighs, pushing himself off Even’s lap while trying to pat his hair back down as good as he can manage. “I told her I didn’t really give a shit, but apparently I should, so…,” he trails off, shrugs one shoulder in good-natured annoyance.

“I’ll see you later, I’ll be the man waiting for you at the aisle,” Even says and Isak laughs, rolling his eyes.

He bends down, presses a kiss onto Even’s lips. “I love you,” he whispers onto Even’s lips before walking out the room.

Even pats his breast pocket before pulling out the notes with his vows. The edges are worn and soft from all the times he has read them over. There are notes in the margins and some cards are hardly legible, but Even doesn’t really need them. He knows what he’s going to say. He thinks he might’ve known what to say the minute he met Isak.

*

_ The first time he sees Isak, he’s already bursting with nerves, afraid to fuck it up  _ again _ , afraid that he’s going to spend an entire year alone, afraid to make friends and disappoint them.  _

_ His thoughts going a mile a minute as he walks the length of the school courtyard until he suddenly hears a laugh.  _

_ He turns his head to see the boy, curls escaping from beneath his snapback, mouth curled into a laugh. Somehow, the sight of him settles something in Even, reminds him that life goes on, and maybe he’ll be okay after all. _

_ Getting to know Isak feels like coming home and jumping off a cliff at the same time. Every moment spent with the other boy makes Even’s heart race, makes him want to be better, do better. _

_ By the time they kiss for the first time, Even feels like he’d been starving for it. Isak tastes like freedom and spring, and as he spends the next day in Isak’s bed, in Isak’s arms, he feels like he came home. _

_ It takes a second, and then a third time to get it right. They mess up and hurt each other before they finally find each other. For real this time. _

_ Opening his eyes in Isak’s bed, that night after everything seemed so lost, is one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He’s afraid of Isak’s pity, afraid Isak will feel like he needs to take care of him now. _

_ Instead, he’s met with quiet determination, Isak’s lips against his, his hand cradling Even’s face.  _

_ It never becomes a given, for Even, the fact that Isak ran across Oslo to get to him. The fact that he wanted to learn, wanted to be better for him. Isak doesn’t allow him to try and make it up to him. Tells him “of course, Even of course I ran to you.” _

_ Even doesn’t think Isak will ever truly understand how much it meant, and maybe it’s good that Isak doesn’t. Maybe the hurt he felt that night is too dark. _

_ They do better this time. Even stays, he talks. Isak listens, he learns.  _

_ Even knows it’s early when he tells him. “I love you.” He told him before, he’s done withholding things from Isak. _

_ Isak doesn’t look shocked or surprised. He looks like he knew, like he heard Even’s soul say it before he spoke the words. “I love you too.” _

*

Sana smiles as she hands him the glass of champagne. They’ve gone over the seating chart, Isak approving every decision Sana made, because she’s a goddess and more competent at this than Isak - or anyone else -  will ever dream to be.

She fiddles with the edge of her yellow hijab as she takes a sip of her own glass of non-alcoholic champagne. Her eyes keep darting around the room as if she’s mentally checking off her own to do list, making sure everything is in order.

Isak scrunches his nose as the fuzzy champagne hits the back of his throat. He never did learn to love the drink, but he knows it’s something Even has always dreamt about, drinking champagne on his wedding day. Isak thinks there are way worse sacrifices he could be making in order to make the man of his life happy.

Sana rolls her eyes at him as she catches his look of slight disgust, “Jonas made sure there’s beer during the reception.” She sounds off-handedly, like she couldn’t care less, but her eyes linger on Isak’s face to see his reaction.

“There is?” Isak asks, smile erupting across his face.

“Don’t get too happy, they’re hipster beers from some local brewery Jonas found,” she warns Isak.

Even the threat of Jonas’ hipster beer can’t stop the warmth from blossoming in his chest. “You’re really nice,” he tells Sana, watching the blush form high on her cheeks.

“Jonas supplied the beer,” she says, eyes narrowed into slits, back straightened, pretending she’s not pleased and flattered by Isak’s words. Isak knows her well enough now however, has spend enough time with her, to see right through it.

“But you did all this,” he waves around the room, the dangling lights, the braided willow branches hanging from the ceiling, the flowers covering every surface, candles spread throughout. It’s beautiful now, and it will be magical later, when it grows dark outside and the candles will be lit. “Without you, Even and I would still be getting married in our living room, ordering pizza and drinking lukewarm beer.”

Sana laughs, “Even would’ve never let that happen. Plus, he’s the vision behind all of it, I just made it happen.” She straightens out the guestbook, puts the pen in between the pages and then back on the table, flicks an invisible speck of dust from the table. Isak waits, she huffs. “You’re welcome, okay?” she raises her eyes to look at him, “Besides, it wouldn’t have mattered where you guys married, it would’ve been beautiful… because it’s you.” There’s a blush high on her cheekbones as she refuses to meet Isak’s eyes. 

“Aaw, Sanasol,” Isak coos, “you really are nice to me today.”

A complicated set of emotions pass over Sana’s face, before she settles on fond exasperation, the side of her mouth threatening to pull up. “Don’t push it, I know where you - badly - hit your stash of ‘after-vows’-weed.” She makes air quotes, her tone harsh, but her eyes smiling.

They are interrupted by Mikael walking into the room, Even on his heels.

“Don’t let him in!” Sana and Isak yell in unison, making Mikael twirl around and slam the door in Even’s face.

“Ow.”

Isak snorts, Sana shaking her head at Mikael’s panicked face. He hurries to the door, patting Mikael on the shoulder as he passes him and pulls it open and quickly shut behind his back.

“Sorry, baby, are you hurt?”

Even pouts, rubbing his nose. “What the hell was that for?”

“It’s the dress,” Isak says, softly kissing Even’s nose. Even’s pout disappears, instead looking confused. “Well, since I’m not wearing a dress to surprise and blow you away with, the room is the dress.”

Even smiles, tilting his head, that little smile he’s been aiming at Isak ever since the day they met, that smile that still makes Isak’s heart beat a little harder, a little surer. 

“Hey,” Even whispers, pulling Isak closer to him, “I really love you.” 

They kiss, lips sliding over each other, hands linked. Even’s fingers fit perfectly in between the spaces of Isak’s. 

Behind him, Isak hears the door open and close.

“We’re ready for the pictures,” Mikael says, ignoring the fact that they haven’t stopped kissing.

Isak pulls back first, laughs when Even follows his lips for a last peck. He thumbs Even’s lips, slightly cracked as always and hands him the chapstick he’s always carrying with him, a habit he developed after years of being together with Even. Even nuzzles his nose against Isak’s cheek in gratitude before applying the chapstick and dropping the tube back in Isak’s blazer pocket.

Their close friends and parents are gathered on the grass outside, laughing and talking. Isak’s mamma engaged in a conversation with Jonas and Eva, her graying hair slipping loose out of her bun, the lines around her eyes crinkled as she laughs along with them. 

She looks up when Isak and Even walk out, catches Isak’s eye and says something to Jonas and Eva, making them turn towards Isak as well.

“What?” Isak asks, once he’s reached them, hand still firmly in Even’s grip. He’s not planning on letting go any time soon.

“I said you look happy,” his mamma says, her voice is slightly raspy. Up close, Isak can see the blue bruises under her eyes, the way her hands slightly tremor. She cups his face when she notices him watching her closely. “Stop worrying, I’m fine, I promise. I’m just a bit tired, but your friend Vilde has offered to bring me back home after the ceremony.”

Vilde turns her head when she hears her name, nods and smiles. 

“I’m fine,” his mamma repeats when Isak opens his mouth, “I’m not missing your wedding.” 

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Even says, squeezing Isak’s hand in his. He kisses the side of Isak’s face, nosing his temple, and Isak feels himself relaxing again. He knows they are right, his mamma is strong enough to stay for the ceremony, knows he shouldn’t worry, that she’s better now, has learned how to manage her illness. Sometimes it’s still hard, though, and he feels sixteen all over again, unable to help her. 

“You look really pretty today, Marianne,” Even says, making her smile widely, easy happiness making her beautiful.

Isak looks from his mamma to Even, the two people in this world that mean most to him. He has many things to thank Even for. He helped him grow, and learn, and love, he’s made him into a better person. Maybe most notably, he’s helped him understand his mamma, and with that understanding, fix their relationship. He doesn’t know where he and his mamma would be without Even’s support, maybe they would’ve gotten there in the end anyway, but Isak’s sure some wounds would never have healed without him by Isak’s side.

Isak nods, affirming Even’s words, and turns his face into her palm when she places it on his cheek. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers softly, and Isak can feel the tears prickling. 

The rest of the shoot passes in a haze of Mikael’s shouted instructions, laughter, arms locking and cheeks being pressed together, Mikael running to be in the shot himself before the timer goes off, Eva insisting on one of those bridesmaids shots even though they technically aren’t even bridesmaids.

Even and Isak never letting go of each other. Holding hands or touching lower backs, eyes locked and lips touching and Isak is overflowing with love.

Then suddenly Sana claps her hands. “If everyone’s ready, it’s time for the ceremony.”

There’s an excited jitter in the air as their guests slowly make their way to where the ceremony will take place, just round the corner. It’s more secluded than the spot they picked for their pictures but equally as beautiful.

Mikael claps Even on the back as he walks by with his camera safely slung back over his neck. “See you out there, bro.”

Even smiles, his eyes turning to slits, his hand squeezing around Isak’s.

When they are alone, Isak exhales shakily, the nerves suddenly hitting him square in the chest.

“Are you okay?” Even asks, arms circling around his waist to hold him close. There’s a slight wind rustling Even’s hair, less slicked down by gel than it used to be. His hands are warm on Isak’s back, rubbing tiny circles.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous. It’s just a ceremony. We already got the licence, we could run away right now and still technically be married, it’s just a…” he trails off, breathing in deeply. He swallows harshly, the strength of it slightly burning his throat.

“It’s okay to be nervous, baby,” Even says after a moment when it seems less like Isak is about to flee, “I’m here. We’re in this together. If you want to run away, we can. As long as we’re married I’m okay. I just want you, fuck everything else.” His eyes steady on Isak’s face, his fingers press into his back. Isak knows he means it, he could call the whole thing off right now, and Even would be okay with that. 

Isak noses the side of Even’s cheek, hums. Breathes in Even’s scent. “No, I don’t want that,” he pulls back to look Even in the eye, “I want to marry you in front of all these people, I want to give a speech and tell everyone how much I love you. I want to marry you properly.”

“Then let's do it,” Even smiles. The press of his fingers squeezes Isak closer to his body, their groins pushed together, but there’s nothing sexual about it, just the intense need to be as close as possible.

Sana motions for them to walk the aisle after everyone’s found their seat. She smiles widely, radiantly. “Ready?” 

They slowly untangle to look at her and face the pathway to the aisle.

Isak looks to the side, where Even is, where Even has been all these years. “Never been more ready.”

*

_ Isak is maybe more pragmatic than romantic. Still, sometimes he thinks he knew he wanted to marry Even from the moment they figured it out, the first time Even said the words out loud and Isak echoed them back. _

_ It doesn’t become more than a stray thought until much later, however. When they’ve moved into their second apartment, after their little apartment becomes almost unbearably small, even if they spend most of their time legs tangled and fingers dancing over the other’s body in bed. _

_ Money is still tight and sometimes Isak wakes up in the middle of the night to see Even stare at the little book of their finances Isak keeps for them. His brow furrowed, his lip sucked between his teeth.  _

_ The apartment is less than perfect. The walls a weird off-white, stained in places, the wooden floor is scratched up, the tiles in the bathroom cracked. There’s a draft and no one can figure out where it comes from. Sometimes when it rains, the inside of the windows get wet. _

_ It’s a two bedroom apartment however, which is two rooms more than what they had before. There’s a couch now, and a tv stand, framed artwork, a bigger closet and bedside tables. They can actually host parties without people having to cram on top of each other. There’s a little studio for Even. It’s not much, but the computer on the desk is by far the most expensive item they have in their house. _

_ Most importantly, it’s home. It contains the clutter they collected in their first home, books Isak gathered during university, little notes Even wrote him, worn sweaters and second hand cutlery. It’s a new step in their lives. _

_ Isak watches Even move around in their new space, picking up and putting things down, making notes on what they need to pick up on their next trip to ikea.  _

_ When he catches Isak staring, he stops moving altogether and just looks back. His head cocks and his eyebrows raise. One socked foot rubs over the other as he smiles before winking and turning back to what he was doing, mumbling softly in himself. _

_ That’s when it hits Isak. He wants to marry him.  _

_ He tells Jonas, then Sana, then his mamma. Buys a ring and carries around with him for months. Obsessively thinks up ideas to ask Even to marry him. He wants Even to have a proposal he’ll never forget, something to treasure forever. _

_ It doesn’t quite turn out that way. _

_ They fight, over something dumb, Even is feeling insecure, Isak hasn’t slept properly in days. It’s dramatic, Isak screaming at Even in the pouring rain, Even hissing back.  _

_ Until Isak stomps his foot, rainwater splashing up, his face contorted as he half screams “Don’t you get I want to marry you, you idiot?” _

_ He figures it’s too late to try and salvage any of his beautiful proposal ideas, so he gets down on one knee, the rain pushing his curls down over his face, his pant leg getting soaked through. He pulls the ring out of his wallet, the little leather of the hidden compartment soft with how many times Isak has run his fingers over the outline of the ring.  _

_ Even says yes before he fully gets the words out, hands flying out as if he can’t decide whether to pull Isak close to him or do a little dance. Isak rolls his eyes but pushes the ring over Even’s right ring finger anyway. He sighs happily when the ring slides over Even’s finger, fitting snugly at the base, the simple silver band glittering under the raindrops still pelting down. _

_ “Where’s yours?” Even asks, his hands curling and uncurling in fists to see the ring strain softly against his skin. _

_ Isak quietly pulls out a second ring, wiggling it between his forefinger and his thumb. _

_ Even sinks to his knees across from him, a giddy laugh escaping his lips when he takes the ring from between Isak’s fingers and slips it over the correct finger. Their hands link, the metallic clink of the rings just audible. _

_ Their clothes are soaked through, hair sticking to their faces, raindrops painting their eyelashes and slipping into their smiles. _

_ “You’re so dumb,” Isak whispers against Even’s lips, “I love you.” _

_ “I love you so much,” Even kisses back. _

_ * _

Even thinks he tunes out most of what the officiant is saying. It’s not that her words aren’t beautiful, they agreed on what she was going to say beforehand and he knows she’s going to speak wonderfully. It’s just that… standing there, hands clasped with Isak, eyes locked, it’s hard to focus on anything other than him. His beautiful groom.

Isak’s left corner of his mouth quirks up, undoubtedly able to tell Even isn’t listening to a word that’s being said. Even just grins back, squeezes his hands.

The officiant scrapes her throat softly, “Even, your vows?” she asks, making Isak and the rest of the guests laugh.

“Actually,” Isak says before Even can do so much as apologize, “would you mind if I go first?”

When Even shakes his head, Isak smiles and pulls out a small piece of paper out of his pocket. It’s been folded over eight times, the paper waxy and brittle from being folded and unfolded over and over, the ink blotchy and smeared in places.

Isak chuckles as he shakes out the paper, “Luckily I don’t really need it, this looks worse than my school notes do.”

Even smiles, thumbs the side of Isak’s face, stroking over his cheek before he drops his arm again, exhaling heavily.

“Even,” Isak starts, his voice coming out in a croak. He scrapes his throat, looks into Even’s eyes. “I think out of the two of us, people always felt like you are the romantic one, the one with the big gestures, the one that made the first move. I think some people didn’t even believe us when we told them I was the one that proposed, not you,” Even hears Magnus snort somewhat guiltily somewhere to his right. “I guess I can see where people come from,” Isak continues, “You’ve always been more outgoing with your love, louder, bolder, but those moments aren’t the ones that define our love.”

Isak swallows, eyes meeting Even’s and Even can hear his own heart rushing to push blood through his veins. “For me, our love is this: coming home to a home cooked meal, or just to each other’s arms. Our love is sitting on our bed slash couch in our first flat, binging some show. Our love is giggling while brushing our teeth. Our love is you letting me in, even when it’s hard. Our love is arguing, but knowing we’ll be okay afterwards. Our love is drinking coffee in the morning, both barely awake. Our love is every little part of the life I share with you. Our love is the conscious decision we make every time we wake up, it’s the emotion and the chemistry and the trust. Our love is sometimes loud and sometimes quiet but always present. Our love is my home.”

He stops for a bit, smiles wetly as he rubs a finger under his right eye. “You gave me a home, Even,” Isak’s eyes bounce to his mamma, Even follows his eyes. She smiles softly, her hands clasped over her heart. “You gave me a home when I felt like I would never completely feel at home again.” 

His eyes are on Even again, green forest, watery but ever so bright. “Our love is my home,” he says again, conviction in his voice, “ _ You _ are my home, Even and I hope to be yours, for as long as you’ll have me.” 

“Forever,” Even whispers, and Isak nods.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

They kiss, tears mixing and fingers tangling. Even feels his heart growing as Isak’s words trickle in more and more and he pushes his lips harder against Isak’s.

“Oh god,” Even exhales when he pulls away, “how am I supposed to do my vows now?”

Isak chuckles, hands going up to rub both thumbs under Even’s eyes, catching the tears there. “You could say, ‘yes, Isak, I want to marry you’ and I’d find it the most beautiful vows in the world.”

Even grins, “ok,” he says, pulling his shoulders back, hands flying up to fix his hair, “ok.” He pulls out the cards with his vows. 

“Those are my flashcards,” Isak breathes, “the ones I used in high school.”

“Yeah,” Even taps the cards against the palm of his right hand, “I might’ve started writing these when we moved in together.” He looks down, the notes softly crinkling in his hand, his lip caught between his teeth.

“Oh,” Isak breathes, before surging forward to kiss Even again. His hands fisting in Even’s lapels, pulling him halfway to where Isak is standing. Even stumbles a moment before his hands find Isak’s waist and he softly grips him there. 

The audience -Even had almost forgotten they had one- chuckles, the officiant softly scraping her throat once again.

“Right, sorry,” Isak says, pulling away, smoothing down Even’s jacket as he goes to stand up straight. “Continue,” he says, waving his hand, earning him more chuckles from their family and friends. 

Even’s strokes his lower lip with his index finger, gathering up some of the moisture Isak left there before inhaling deeply.

“Isak,” he starts, “our story doesn’t have an easy beginning, or an easy middle, and I’m afraid it won’t be easy from here on out, either. We’ve known heartbreak and we’ve hurt each other. I know that, while I’m feeling better than ever, life will not be easy sailing for you as long as you are with me.” 

Even stops, the flashcards loosely between his trembling fingers. Isak smiles as he takes his hands in his. 

“I used to get afraid, sometimes, in the middle of the night. Afraid that one day I was going to hurt you so badly, you’d leave me.” Isak’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “ I’m not afraid of that anymore. How can I be afraid of that when your body turns into mine in the middle of the night. When your eyes find mine in the middle of a crowded party. You know when to hold my hand and when to let me go. You know when I’m being willfully stubborn and stupid and when I’m hurt and lashing out. You don’t let me get away with my bullshit, but you’re also always there to hold me together. Now I wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes, with your hand in mine, as a tether in a sea of bad dreams.”

Even smiles, the silent tears making itchy tracks on his face. Isak’s lip trembles. He’s beautiful. 

“That’s when I know, no matter what happens, we’re it. We’re soulmates. I love you, Isak. You take care of me, and I take care of you, that’s how this works. I - I, uh, could stand here for hours talking about how you make me whole, how you settle the demons in my bones and the loneliness I thought was rooted in my soul. But here’s what’s important,” he smiles, untangling one hand so he can cup the side of Isak’s face, “you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out, and I will spend the rest of my life loving you. My heart is yours, Isak Valtersen, forever.”

Isak swallows hard, and Even knows he’s trying to push the tears down. He sniffles once, eyes lifting to the sky and lip still trembling. Their friends and family remain silent, respectfully waiting. 

“It’s okay,” Even whispers, low enough so only Isak catches it. Isak swallows again, the sound loud enough for Even to pick up and he laughs. The tears start flowing.

“Oh my god,” Isak mumbles, softly giggling through the tears. The wind rustles in the trees above them as Even pulls Isak to his chest, the salt of his tears staining Even’s suit. After a moment he steps back, grabbing Isak’s face in his palms, rubbing their noses together.

“I love you,” Isak whispers and Even smiles.

The officiant smiles at them as they separate, her eyes are soft. Even likes her. 

She softly claps her hands together as she starts talking. “And now: I ask you first Isak Valtersen, do you want to accept  Even Bech Næsheim, who stands beside you, as your beloved husband?”

Isak looks into Even’s eyes as he says yes, his eyes fierce, leaving no doubt in Even’s mind. The ring he slips on Even’s finger fits perfectly besides the engagement ring, the metal clicking together.

The officiant continues, “So I ask you, Even Bech Næsheim: do you want to accept Isak Valtersen, who stands beside you, as your beloved husband?

“Yes,” Even says through a smile, Isak’s responding smile lightening him up from the inside out. His hand is steady as he pushes Isak’s ring onto his finger, the silver glinting in the sunlight.

“Since you now – in the presence of witnesses – have promised each other to live together in marriage, I declare you with this to be husbands,” the officiant ends and the small crowd cheers.

“Hi, husband,” Even whispers against Isak’s lips.

“Hi yourself,” Isak replies before pulling Even fully in, the kiss messy, their teeth clicking together, since neither of them can stop smiling. Still, it’s one of the best kisses Even has ever had.

*

The rest of the night seems to pass in a blur of speeches, lots of food and drink and more love and laughter than Isak thought possible.

When Jonas drops down on the chair next to him, the one that Even vacated to go dancing with Sana, it’s already turning into a new day outside. The only ones left in the room are their friends, the ones that were with them from the beginning. Dancing to music blasting from the speakers, no dj, but a plugged in phone and a list of songs that has no real theme to it. 

Isak grins when he sees Magnus and Mahdi bend over the phone, no doubtedly queueing up another wildly inappropriate song that will have them howling with laughter. 

The room is still stunningly beautiful, and Isak will never forget Even’s face when he saw it for the first time or the way he ran his fingers over the delicate flowers in the middle of their table. The sheer love in Even’s eyes as he turned around to thank Isak and Sana, had almost made Isak cry again. Instead he’d kissed his husband again and again until their guests complained they wanted to start eating sometime this century. 

Jonas’ hand on Isak’s shoulder brings his attention back to his best friend. His hair and face are a sweaty mess, his grin so wide it splits his face in two, tie hanging loose around his neck, his jacket long lost. He looks like he’s been having a great time.

“How are you feeling?” Jonas asks him, voice breathy from singing along. The start of the next song has Eva screaming in joy, her hair flying around her face as Mikael twirls her on the beat.

Isak smiles around his beer, takes a deep pull before answering. The alcohol is making him feel warm, his head pleasantly fuzzy. “Really good,” he answers, snorting when Chris and Mutta jump on the little stage in the front of the room, where the speeches were held before and start doing some intricate dance. 

Jonas’ hand squeezes around his shoulder, making him turn to look him in the eye. His glass is raised, slightly tilted towards Isak’s, the clear liquid sloshing close to the edge. Isak blinks before raising his bottle and accepting the toast Jonas proposes.

“To true love,” Jonas cheers and Isak laughs.

“Yeah.” Their glasses clink, the sound melodic over the bass. His eyes glide over their friends, finding Even’s eyes already on him, sparkling even in the dimmed light, “true love.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](http://greathalesonfire.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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